While we're on the subject, how about this, as a (much needed, IMHO) third verse to Blake's now sadly somewhat suspect masterpiece?
And shall the joy be thus confined: Cease at the bounds of England's shore? Shall minds be closed and hearts unmoved As mute starvation pleads for more? This must not be: we shall fight on; Our love extend our greed destroy. Then truly shall Jerusalem The whole world o'er shout out her joy!